


Aphrodisia

by syrenhug



Series: in which i try to world build by own freaking novel [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Calling, Androgynous Characters, Character(s) of Color, Disabled Character, Edward is twenty and Roy is thirty five when they meet, F/M, Gen, Greek Paganism, Latinx Elrics, Military, Nonbinary Character, Other, Paganism, Pregnancy, Religious Content, Riza is black how amazing i know, Royalty, War, Weddings, hiearchies, technology isn't as advanced yet because of the flood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 03:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7558999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenhug/pseuds/syrenhug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy has always been told he was special. Having two callings, being blessed by two deities, was rare and made for an immediate hierarchy change. He went from a service six to a high ranking One almost overnight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aphrodisia

**Author's Note:**

> So this is v important to me because its set in the universe of the book im writing. The Calling ™ - Please don’t replicate or play in my sandbox without permission kay thanks mwah! 
> 
> Some background; 
> 
> Geography of Cannes Venciti –  
> Lyraa – Ten countries (socialist monarchy)  
> Vega – Six countries (capitalist aristocracy) 
> 
> Roy is born in 2020, two years after the flood which killed billions of people and brought us this world right here. He was Called in 32 and the War he was in lasted 2040 – 42. Edward was born in 35. 
> 
> Edward is Blessed by Aphrodite, Roy is Called upon by Ares and Zhurong (fire god who says nothing to him sad face). i do know ironic that is. did it on purpose. al is Blessed by Apollo and Winry by Artemis. 
> 
> yes edward uses he/him pronouns and wears tunics and makeup and blah blah blah. he can have kids biologically. i know amazing huh
> 
> There’s lots of notes which I’m not sorry for down below. i wrote a lot of words which took like a month. if you want to see anything else in The Calling universe then let me know [snaps my fingers]

Roy has always been told he was special. Having two callings, being blessed by two deities, was rare and made for an immediate hierarchy change. He went from a service six to a high ranking One almost overnight.

 “But I don’t want to leave you.” He’d whispered, watching his aunt move around the room almost frantically, trying to make sure anything incriminating was hidden. The sun was almost up, the Leader having left with two papers of written information on who Roy was now, who he’d apparently always been. The girls had all stared wide – eyed, never having seen something like this. They lived in Sempti for a reason.

 “You must.” She said firmly and still found a second to take a drag of her cigarette.

 There was a sharp knock on the door. “HS – open up.”

 Madame Christmas turned, crossing the room to grip his hands tight in her palms. Her lips were flat but her eyes were soft. Roy _breathed_. “This is it. We won’t meet again, Roy – boy. Be a good man. Like I raised you. Do what’s important, not what’s easy.”

 “Yes, Madame.”

 And when they took him, he never looked back.

* * *

 

When he meets Riza, he’s nineteen and just as tired as she appears to be. Her hair is shaved on the sides, ears pierced in four places and her angel wings tattoo spans a large portion of her back, made especially apparent as all she ever wore was black tank tops. She salutes when necessary and stays silent even when she doesn’t have to. The model of a perfect soldier.

 “Do you ever relax?” He asks, after the fourth Look in two hours over his avoidance of the paperwork that needed to be finished. There was just so much to _not_ do.

 She raises her eyebrows. “What’s that?”

 “Point taken.” He says and goes back to pretending to work.

* * *

 

The parties are lavish, the champagne bubbly and everyone laughs and says nothing they mean. He looks around at the arched doors and grand ballrooms. The music is so elegant that no one could ever really dance to it beyond a light sway. 

“If it isn’t the brightest pupil in Oveni.” The Supreme’s smile might as well be painted on as he sweeps into Roy’s space. His white robes look heavy across his frail shoulders. “We’re hearing amazing things about your overseeing some of the squads on the ground.”

“Thank you, your Grace. I’m doing my best.”

“Good. Good.” The Supreme nods, as if that were really all, and turns to speak someone else.

“Are you ready?” Someone asks him later on in the evening.

Roy smiles. “As I’ll ever be.”

* * *

 

Through the mud and rain and gun shots, Ares whispers, _this is war at its end to start a new beginning._

Roy considers, _what was the point?_

_History._

* * *

The winning is the easy part; what comes after is harder. He puts on his best tie – black with white stripes – and slicks his hair back. There are people to see and talk to. Five years becomes ten. Ten becomes fifteen and he’s thirty-five and still reluctantly climbing.

Eventually –

The talk of peace comes. Those who didn’t want war in the first place, whose families were still in Lyraa, are angry at this late diplomacy and Roy agrees. Understands. He doesn’t know what to expect meeting their royalty.

Majesty Edward is all gold – skin, hair, even eyes – and no pants, only long dress shirts. Prince Alphonse’s hair is cropped bluntly short and he looks thoughtful but kind, his bodyguard – who he later learns is also their cousin Winry and Blessed – at his back.

“Nice to meet you, Your Highness.” Maes says, face serious for once. He doesn’t offer his hand for Edward to take, he notes. Only Alphonse. Gives the bodyguards respectful glances.

Edward looks around the hall for a full five minutes then states loudly, “I’m hungry.”

“Edward!” Alphonse admonishes, looking for all the world like a exasperatedly fond brother.

Maes tries to hide his smile. “It’s perfectly fine. Just make your way to the dining hall and there will be food out soon.”

“Bless.” The monarch says in obvious relief, practically running to the dining area.

* * *

 

“You don’t want war.”

 He looks up from the book he’d been pretending to read and watches Edward watch the troops spar outside the window of his office. The sun turns his hair spun thread. “I’ve already been in a war and we both know how that turned out.” Yes, they’d won, but it wasn’t worth seeing people he’d considered to be his family die on the bordering soil.

 “But do you support it?”

 Roy tilts his head. “Do you?”

 “Oh,” Edward barely-just smiles. “You like to play games. I should have known, Mustang.”

 “Call me Roy, Your Highness.”

 “That’s fine. Just don’t expect the same in return.” Edward points at the chess board tucked in the corner of the room. “Would you like to play?”

 “You know how?” The question escapes him, makes him wince. “I apologize, that was rude.”

 Edward shrugs. “Fuck it. I’m the last person who can judge on that account.”

Which, Roy supposes is true in a way. But Edward still manages to make every blunt part himself look elegant, intentional. Every time he forgets to address the Supreme by his title, every time he uses the wrong fork. None of makes much of a difference, in the end. He’s still important enough to the façade of amnesty that he could get away with anything.

“We can.” He cracks his knuckles across his desk. “Play, I mean.”

The monarch rises from his seat. “Too late, Mustang. Maybe next time.”

Roy watches him leave.

* * *

Before he becomes somebody, before anyone even wants to know his name, he goes to school. One of the best and few in Vega; School of Thought. It rests on a high hill surrounded by fields of grass and trees. Everyone in his class seems to find it peaceful but all he can think of is how easy it would be to spread a fire. Zhurong hasn’t spoken to him since his calling was revealed, though. Probably never would.

They study Latin, Diplomacy, Strategy, Advanced Math and other subjects he finds barely challenging. Often, he makes excuses to roam the forest and think.

“That’s a Dancing Plant.”

Roy straightens. Hughes is familiar face in class, only a year or so older than him. He looks back at the green leaves. “Oh?”

“It moves when exposed to direct sunlight, vibration or warmth. It was a favorite of Charles Darwin.”

“That’s fascinating.” And it is.

Hughes smiles, a tad shy. “I think so too.”

“Would you like to walk with me?” He offers his arm. Hughes hesitates, for an inhale, then takes it. Roy has never had a friend. Not a real one. Maybe this is his chance.

* * *

 “So what do we do now?” Feury asks one late night at the office. Havoc pauses in the middle of telling some joke about a girl he’d tried to flirt with. Riza straightens up from over his shoulder.

 Roy presses his thumb down on the piece of paper on his desk. “What do you mean?”

 “You’re the only one here who’s not a nobody, sir. We’re all Semptians -” _So am I_ , he wants to say. “There’s nothing for us after war.”

 It was like if you bought a gun and never used it. It only served one purpose; to shoot. Maybe not kill, maybe not wound. But to take aim and fire. He, despite his privilege, feels it too. This restlessness of being aimless.

 “The truth is, sergeant major, I don’t know.” Feury’s gaze falls to the floor. “But trying to be happy might be a nice place to start.”

 Havoc speaks. “That sounds nice and all, sir. But I have a family back home. I can’t talk to them but I’d like to try to send them something.”

 And Roy thinks of his aunt, his might-as-well-be mother. He wonders how the girls are, if they were safe and at the least, content. If he’d given up too easily. “I’ll make it happen. If it’s last thing I do.”

 Maybe it will be.

* * *

 They say with war comes peace.

They say a lot of things that aren’t true.

* * *

 

“Uncle Roy!”

 He laughs when Elicia climbs on his pants. She giggles when he hefts her up, putting his mouth to her tiny stomach to make her laugh even more. She’s gotten bigger since the last time he’s seen her and for a second he mourns her babyhood.

“You’re good with her.”

Roy spins, hiking his goddaughter higher on his hip. Edward looks the same as he did the last time Roy saw him, signature braid and loose clothing, but he seems ruffled? Gracia pops up from around the banister. She gives him furrowed brow.

“Oh, Roy, we didn’t know you were coming.”

“Bad time?” He looks between them. Edward shrugs.

“You’re fine.”

“Maybe call next time.” Gracia suggests and he realizes. Edward is androgunos, and while it’s a part of their culture as well, there are certain things that Lyraa does differently, things they take seriously. Family is one, privacy another.

“I’ll make sure to do that.”

“Thank you.” Gracia moves on. Bustles to their newly painted kitchen. “So who wants some ice tea?"

* * *

 Once, Riza kisses him. It’s open - mouthed and messy, four seconds and a tongue away from being dirty. She eases back, gold chain clinking against her chest. Roy’s fingers fall useless at his side.

“Huh.”

“Hmm,” The corners of her mouth tilt upwards. “That actually wasn’t that bad.”

He laughs.

* * *

 

“Tell me a story.” Edward demands on the way home from an evening out. Havoc smoking with one hand and steering with the other, has the window cracked down far enough to make it a private conversation. Though, he doubts he could be distracted from anything concerning Edward.

Roy sighs. “Say please.”

“You wish. I’ve been fake enough for a lifetime tonight.”

“What problems do you have with manners?”

He only just barely makes out Edward rolling eyes in the fading sun. “I have nothing against manners. I do have something against bullshit. But _you_ are deflecting.”

“Fine.” He thinks. “Once upon a time, there was a man and his wife –

A snoring noise. “Boring.”

“Easy, paidi.” It slips out, a reflex from the early years of his aunt sheltering his body in her arms and singing him to sleep. _Paidi mou_ , she’d say and he’d dig his knuckles into her bare neck. Her allegedly sinful heart laid bare under his ear. But now he is a _thalaskolos_ , a man.

“I’m not a child.”

“ _That_ is up for debate.”

“Look here, motherfucker - ”

“Boss,” Havoc interrupts. “We’re here.”

He gets out of the car and leans on the car door. Watches the monarch walk to the door then, turn back. The wind doesn’t seem to bother him as it flutters his dress. “How’d you get your last name?”

“After the car. Maes told me they reminded him of me.”

Edward snorts. “Generally useless and possibly damaging to the environment?”

“Going nowhere fast.”

The monarch sobers, face suddenly thoughtful. “Good night, Roy.”

“Goodnight, Your Highness.”

“You can call me Edward, bastard.” He hears and doesn't know what he's said right. 

* * *

 When The Supreme dies on a Sunday morning, at sixty-five years old, he almost has an anxiety attack. His room is huge, but it suddenly feels airtight. When someone knocks, he goes quiet in hopes they’ll leave. But, the door clicks open. Edward kneels beside his bed, eyes unusually serious.

“Al told me.”

Of course the Apollo incarnate would know. Roy runs a finger through his hair. It needs to be cut. “I’m going to mess this up.”

“Do you pray?” Edward wonders, warm palm cradling his jaw. He’s wearing a white tunic today. It makes him look ethereal, an angel in poor disguise. Roy leans in without thinking.

“Who would listen?” It’s automatic, the Semptian way. In Rosemoor, religion wasn’t something afforded to the poor. Of course there were small cathedrals on less populated roads, alters hidden in grimy alleyways dedicated to minor deities. Sometimes he’d hear his aunt scrape an offering to Hestia, but she’d never admit it if you asked.  

The monarch shakes his head. “What does that matter? It’s not about what you receive, it’s what you give.”

Roy puts a hand in the crevice of Edward’s neck. “I forget you’re devout. You have to be.” _It’s easy for you._

“No.” The swan keychain around his neck jingles with how hard he shakes his head, hair spilling like sunlight over Roy’s fingers. “My mother believed and I didn’t understand when she was alive but I understand now. She knew they lived within us. She knew and I love what she loved and My Lady will see us together one day.”

Edward pulls them both down. His thighs are red underneath the cotton fabric.

“Your knees -”

“Will live to see another day. Unlike you, I’m not old yet. Now shut up and pray.”

For a while he just listens to Edward, the shape his lips make, the curl of his body over the floor and the scrunch of his forehead as he concentrates. He looks every bit the Blessed. When he hears a familiar verse, he joins in.

“ _And in life, you are merciful. In death, you see us forgiven._ _I'll follow and not falter; if my will_ _prove weak and craven, still I'll follow on."_

* * *

 “You’re happy.”

Maes waves at his daughter when she smiles at him, playing with a few other kids from their city bounds. This year has been full of babies being born and inventions being discovered. Roy shifts forward on the bench.

“I suppose I am.”

“I’m glad.” His friend nods. “Just don’t forget where you came from, Roy.”

And its good advice. The best people he knew never forget. “Thanks, Maes." 

* * *

  _Is this what it was like for you?_

He expects nothing, but hours later, Ares laughs. _Even now, even now she knows how to ensnare us. You. Be careful, kid._

 _I’ll try_ , he thinks. Doesn’t believe.

* * *

 

Roy loves Al like a brother. The future king is patient and more of a listener than a talker which Roy appreciates. He opens the door immediately when he knocks, leaning heavily on his cane.

“I’d like your blessing.”

He expects a lot of things but Al laughing until tears spring from the corners of his eyes is not one of them. “I’m sorry it’s just _so_ funny.”

“What?” He asks, a tad briskly. Roy has never liked to be laughed at.

“You and Edward are both such unconventional traditionalists.”

“Getting a blessing is an important part of any courtship.”

Al snickers. “Okay, you have my blessing. See you at the wedding, brother.”

The door slams in Roy’s face.

* * *

 The ring is gold, a rose set straight in the middle. It’s perfect.

He wonders what rings his parents wore.

* * *

 

“So, I would think Gracia’s place is a tad crowded, what with Winry there and your brother.”

 Edward looks at him over his buttered bread, unimpressed. “What are you getting at?”

 “Marry me.” Roy closes his eyes. “No, wait - ”

 “So you _don’t_ want to marry me?” Edward looks even more unmoved, if possible. He’d chosen the restaurant because it was quiet and comfortable. He regrets the first value at awkward moments such as these.

 “Of course. I was intending to wait until after the first course was out, at the very least.”

 They stare at each other for what feels like minutes. Then, Edward takes another bite of his bread. “You get one more chance, Roy. Don’t fuck up.”

 After the three courses, all of which his future fiancéx demolishes, he leads Edward out the restaurant to the back by the grass. He kneels, listens to Edward inhale noisily.

 “Edward Elric, I love you most ardently - ”

 “That’s a big word.”

  “- and I want to wake up to you every morning and always have you by my side. Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

 “Eisai trelos.” Edward breathes and he doesn’t know who leans first but they are kissing and it is a hot and wet and there is a lot of things he’s been proud of but this is probably ranked the highest. When they part, bodies closer than they should be for a public place, he thinks of Sempti and for once, it is not hurtful.

* * *

 

He doesn’t found out Winry’s recruiting until Riza tell him she’s leaving.

“You know officially you can’t be discharged.” He reminds her. She sniffs. The muscles in her arms flex when she crosses them. They watch the cars on the back roads zoom by from their view on the bridge.

“No offense, sir, but I’d like for anyone to try and stop me.”

“And far be it for me to stop a member of a goddess’ hunt.”

 She smirks. “You would know.”

“Yeah,” He smooths down his suit collar. “I guess I would.”

* * *

 Al’s coronation is big and his cane matches the light purple of the crown he wears. Edward tries to pretend he’s not crying but Winry hands him a tissue and the jig is up.

The people of Lyraa, of Alpha, are weary of him and Vegan’s in general, but they seem too overcome to really be worried. May is there, making sure the kids don’t hurt themselves or get into any trouble. He hangs around the food table and observes.

It’s a good day. 

* * *

 

Edward licks his lips in rare show of anxiety and Roy squeezes his hand. Gracia is visibly confused, but ever patient.

“I know you’re not my mother. But you’re as close to one as I have. You let me stay in your house and made your family my family.” Edward expels a gust of air that sounds loud with how quiet Gracia goes. “Would you be in my wedding ceremony?”

Her mouth opens and closes. Roy sees the tears before he hears her small shriek. “Oh! Maes come here right now.”

Maes comes in the greeting room crunching on an apple. “What’s going on?"

“I have another beautiful child and he’s getting married!” Gracia pulls them all into a hug, the warmth of her sweater blanketing their bodies, and by the end of it he’s not sure who’s crying more, Maes or Edward. Probably himself.

* * *

 

That night, he kneels at an alter for the first time in his life and prays.

* * *

 “Do you want children?”

 “Yes,” He answers so quickly that Edward flushes, staring intently at flowers as they walk through the garden they’ll be married in. “Though, it is ultimately up to you, it’s your body.”

 “I knew that, but thanks.” He scowls. Then, “I want three, five at the most.”

 “Whatever you want.” Roy says, taking his fiancéx’s fingers in his palm and kissing the knuckle. Edward makes a face but doesn’t try to move his fingers. They keep walking.

* * *

 

“Okay, who knows how to do make up?”

Everyone stops and turns to Riza. She blinks, one, two, three times. “What’s makeup?”

“You literally wear kohl like, every day.” May says blandly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, do you hear that, yes, that was my name, bye.”

And she leaves. Roy knew she worked for him for a reason.

“If my makeup doesn’t start getting done in five point four seconds, then this entire thing is off!” Edward yells from behind the door. Winry, in the process of moving more chairs outside, gives him a half sympathetic, half amused glance.

He squares his shoulders and gives his team his best _please help me I’m getting married to a very beautiful person who also has a lot of needs so take pity on me_ eyes. Falman nods like he understands which he probably does. Havoc sighs and flings his jacket over his shoulder, Feury and Breda trailing behind him. Roy feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to Al’s warm smile.

“Come on. Let’s go get this thing started.”

* * *

 

The incense is sandalwood. He watches the priest and priestess – Ling in a long robe – and May – also in a long robe – bless the circle with it. Roy catches Havoc’s eye and the lieutenant winks, hands gripping the liknon. _Don’t drop it_ , he mouths and Havoc only grins. All those present are respectfully hushed, the children seated as best possible.

 Eventually, the music starts and they begin. Gracia, dressed in a beautiful gold dress, joins Ling and May at the altar with a candle in her hand.

“Marriage is a time of solemnity. People may come together for many reasons, but it is considerably more than just words. This is something to be celebrated and supported by family, friends, and the community which these two are a part of. By your attendance you bear witness to their joining and give your support to their success.

 May continues. “As solemn witnesses to this event, we ask you to join us in the making of this room into a holy place. Through the washing of hands with blessed water, we clean ourselves of the miasma of the daily world, and we are purified. By consecrating the altar with barley, we become one with the couple, and with each other, a true community. In offering libations to the Gods who will witness this marriage, even as you do, we share in the responsibility of watching over these young ones as they grow together in married life. For the libations, if you may not drink for any reason, flicking a droplet of wine to the floor is sufficient.”

 Gracia gives her hands to be washed.

 “Let each of you come forward and take a few grains of barley from the basket. Toss the barley into the fire, in order that the hearth be consecrated as the altar for this wedding.”

 Everyone throws barley into the fire, someone almost laughing when a bug gets into their face. The groom’s entrance is first and he takes a deep breath, watching Havoc stroll down in front, followed by Maes, Breda and Falman. In the front of the platform, he sees Edward.

 His hair is covered by a shiny red veil and he’s wearing red pants and a gold lace top. Roy opens his mouth just to pretend he could possible string together any words. Edward gives him an undiscernible look.

 The ceremony passes by in what feels like a blur. Every second he notices something new – Elicia is wearing a cute suit jacket, Maes is crying and Riza looks like she wants nothing more than to leave. Finally, after they have taken sips from the cups, Edward is leading the prayer (which is a saving grace for him because he knows way less than he probably should), voice reverent as always. Then, Ling and May say in unison, “We give to you this couple, Edward and Roy, partners in marriage and a family under one roof. So be it!”

 Everyone claps and cheers, Edward, his _spouse_ , takes off his veil and announces that he’d never been hungrier in his life and _could we please get some music?_

Roy has never loved anyone more in his entire life.

* * *

 

The reception starts as the sun sets, the sky a soft peach breaking into a dusky blue. Edward floats around talking to anyone who wants to congratulate them, barefoot and eyes bright. It hurts to look at him sometimes. He’s beautiful and everlasting; the Vegan moon he’d wish upon on his loneliest nights.

“You’ll both have to come up with cute nicknames that all married people have now.” Riza muses over her bite of the honey cake they’d chosen for the wedding. He personally wasn’t a huge fan but it was traditional and Edward took tradition mildly serious.

“Oh, someone’s feeling bitter today. Hurting for some loving? I hear May’s single.” Havoc grins.

 Riza rolls her eyes. “She’s literally sixteen, get fucked.”

 “Are you offering?”

 “Okay, children, let’s settle down.” Maes states, but he’s smiling too, drunk off wine just like everyone else. “Plus, they already have nicknames.”

 Roy shifts his gaze from where Edward and Gracia are dancing in the middle of the grass. They laugh as they spill into each other’s bodies. Al, seated on the other side of the garden, tips his head and he nods in return. “Don’t even start, Hughes.”

 “Andra mou, stop,” Maes mocks, trying to capture Edward’s husky voice. Then switches to Roy. “Yes, mana mou, whatever you want.”

 “Are you making fun of my husband?”

 Roy looks up. Offers his spouse a sip of his drink. Edward arches his eyebrow and proceeds to down the whole cup. “Yes, dear, rescue me.”

 “Oh please.” But he holds out his hands to help Roy up. “Are you ready for the maypole?”

 Havoc’s face lights up. “Can I join?”

 “That’s the general idea, lieutenant.”

 Falman, who’d been pretty quiet the whole reception except for making fun of Breda’s overturn as he made his way to the table, stands up. “It’s been too long since I’ve maypole danced.”

The pole is decorated with different colored ribbons, everyone slowly stumbling up to grab one. The music starts and he is spinning, already half laughing watching Gracia forget which way she was going. Someone yells and then Edward is yelling back, probably the only one serious about this. Soon it becomes a competition to see who can rile him up the most, Riza winning when she comments, “Times like this I’m sure it’s hard to be so short.”

Roy grabs Edward before there’s an actual fight. They settle into a simple sway away from the excitement.

“What are you doing?” Ed whispers into his neck. It makes him shiver, duck his nose in his spouse’s messy curly hair.

“Just wanted to say hello.”

Ed tips his head back to look at him with a shy smile. The makeup he wears is natural but bold, kohl thick and eye shadow gold too. Roy loves him like this. “Hey, bastard.”

“Wanna get out of her, darling?”

“Fine,” he agrees. “But I’m shoving that honey cake down your throat later.”

“My dear, the entire cake?”

“Try me.”

* * *

 

Roy has almost forgotten what sex was like. But his younger spouse precedes to remind him. By the end, the bed spread is on the floor and they’re curled into the pillows and each other’s arms.

“Do you ever miss it? Lyraa?” He whispers into his spouse’s shoulder. Edward moans.

“It’s too late for this, bastard.”

“Mana mou.”

“That’s not going to work on me, asshole.” A lie. The pillow shifts. “Ugh, fine. Yes. I miss it. Even though we went for my brother’s coronation. I still miss it.”

He breathes. “One day we’ll go back. One day I’ll take you home for good.”

Edward lifts his head, stretching his legs so they bump Roy’s. “Shut up. I understand you’re trying to be sweet or whatever, but if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be. My mother stood by my father even as she missed her homeland, even as he missed his. The same will be said for us.”

Sometimes Roy wonders what the royal family’s parents must have been like. Al talks about them rarely, like it hurts him too much, and when he does it’s about his father. How he’d been from Vega before falling in love with their mother who’d had royal blood even before the flood. Edward speaks of his mother like she is his idol, another goddess he would bend his knee to.

He puts his hands on the hips he’d kissed not too long ago. “I still want to take you back.”

“Alright, andra mou. Go to bed.”  

 Roy sleeps and dreams.

* * *

 

 Aphrodisia is a festival of color and he watches Edward shine, alight with flowers and apples. The air smells of wine and honey and the brown of Ed’s skin is luminescent always, but especially here, especially now. No one seems unhappy, walking the streets of Cyrus, talking to vendors and blowing kisses to their platform.

 “They love you.” He murmurs.

 Edward doesn’t shield his eyes from the sun, even though it must hurt. Pushes him a little so that he stumbles and laughs. “They love us, your Grace.”

 “Mhmmm.” He kisses a forehead, nose, lips. Someone in the crowd hoots. “I like the sound of that.”

* * *

 

Becoming the Supreme is daunting but satisfying. He realizes he is not perfect but he wants to actually change things. Do some good. His new office is almost as big as his new house and he invites everyone to celebrate.

“We’re proud of you, sir.” Feury lets him know. “I mean, your Grace.”

“Sergeant major, don’t ever call me that unless we’re around the public.”

Havoc pops up at his most opportune moment, like always. “It’s because Edward calls him that during Naughty Times.”

“I forget that you’re a dashing twelve years old, Havoc.” Riza rolls her eyes heavenward. She’s leaving with Winry the next day and he’s sad to see her go. But he knows she’ll be happier. This was never the life for her.

“Can we go five minutes without you two fighting?” Breda asks. Which. A valid inquiry.

 Havoc and Riza look at each other for a long moment.

“No.”

“Nah.”

Roy figures this is what family’s really about.

* * *

 

“So guess what?”

Throughout the whole dinner Gracia has been smiling, giving Roy kind glances.

“I’m pregnant.” His spouse announces over desert in front of everyone. Maes coughs into his glass of milk. Elicia is too busy looking out the window to acknowledge anything happening inside. Gracia pats him on the shoulder as she goes to wash the dishes.

“Uh.”

Edward nods. 

“How did – “

Maes laughs. “Really, Roy, I thought you knew how these things worked.”

“Don’t you have a wife you should be helping?” he snaps, trying to focus on everything that is happening here. “When did you find out?”

“Yesterday.”

Roy takes several deep breaths. By the time he’s finished, Maes is gone and Edward is watching him. He gets up and squeezes his spouse into a hug. “You're happy, right?”

“Yes, buddy. How about you?”

“I need about four naps, but me as well. Of course.”

 Edward pinches him in the shoulder. It’s hard enough that he hisses. “You’re not taking four naps without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

* * *

 

The baby yawns in his arms, tiny lashes fluttering like butterfly wings unto their round pink cheeks. Edward is all dimples, eyes rimmed red from crying. The labor has been long and tough. Full of too – tight grips and swearing. But through it all, his spouse has been an open prayer.

 He says, quiet as day breaking, “They look like my mom.”

 And Roy asks, “What’s their name, mana?”

* * *

 

“Manoula?” Their middle child questions. Edward swallows his bite of food, making a face when their youngest – a precocious one-year-old named Chrysanthos – tips most of their plate on the floor.

 “Yeah, kid?”

 “How come Carino gets to go with Uncle Al and I don’t?”

 Roy ruffles his kid’s hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Chara looks the most like Roy out of all their kids; wavy black hair and narrow dark eyes. She even has his arched brow. “Because we want our baby to stay a baby for as long as possible.”

 She whines, five and already easily embarrassed. “ _Patera_.”

 Edward grins at him. “Yeah, patera, stop being gross.”

 “Manoula, is it because I’m androgunos like you?”

 His spouse jolts back. Even drops the rice between his fingers. Chrys’ _bah!_ almost makes him smile. “Of course not. What makes you think that?”

 Chara looks down. Her short braids brush against Roy’s hand as he cups her face. “Carino said it before he left.”

 “Well, your brother and I are going to have a talk when he gets back. I haven’t heard anything so foolish since the last time I talked to Havoc.” Edward promises reaching across the table to tap her nose. She wrinkles her face up in the way that Edward sometimes does when he’s pleased but doesn’t want to admit it. “Now eat your food.”

 “Mama!” Chrys drops their entire plate – not one to be ignored - and Edward groans.

**Author's Note:**

> Paidi means child.  
> thalaskolos means teacher.  
> Mana mou means my mother in Greek which is culturally used as a sign of affection regardless of gender/age. I grew up with this endearment as well.  
> Andra mou means my man.  
> Eisai trelos means you’re crazy.  
> Manoula means mommy. Patera means father.  
> Carino means affection/darling/with love in Spanish. Chrysanthos means golden flower, or something to that effect, and Chara means joy (both are Greek). 
> 
> \- Androgunos was the original word used which later evolved into androgynous.  
> \- Blessed; someone who is considered to be the physical manifestation of a deity.  
> \- I made up fiancéx because why the fuck not.  
> \- Dancing Plant is a real thing. it's very cute.  
> \- The maypole dance probably wouldn't happen at a hellenic polytheist wedding but look. i make my own rules.  
> \- The Supreme is like the president but does nothing which wow. irony  
> \- Aphrodisia is the festival to honor Aphrodite  
> \- just a reminder but the elrics are latinx and riza is black please. love me
> 
> thats it im gay goodnight follow me here: http://syrenhug.tumblr.com/  
> or here: http://syrenhugvisuals.tumblr.com/tagged/aphrodisia


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